


Reaching the Eye of the Storm

by velocitygrass



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-14
Updated: 2011-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And every time without fail, John imagines to turn his face when Rodney leans close the next time, to grab his face and kiss him, to push him down on the couch and fuck him senseless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reaching the Eye of the Storm

He's slowly but surely going crazy.

Grounded on Earth in a tiny apartment while someone else is taking his city out into space. Ronon's on a trip through South America with Amelia. Teyla is back in the Pegasus galaxy.

And several times a week, Rodney comes over and they watch a movie or show or play a video game. John's fine as long as they cook or eat, but then they move to the couch, and John can't think about anything but the fact that Rodney's single again and complaining that getting laid should be much easier on Earth than on Atlantis.

There's no space at all between them on the couch. Rodney keeps leaning close to taunt him.

And every time without fail, John imagines to turn his face when Rodney leans close the next time, to grab his face and kiss him, to push him down on the couch and fuck him senseless.

Rodney either doesn't notice his hard-on or _pretends_ that he doesn't.

"Sheppard? John?"

It takes John a moment to focus back on reality.

"What is it with you lately?" Rodney asks, sounding irritated. "Are you fantasizing about something? Or should I say _someone_?" He looks pointedly at John's crotch, the downward slant of his mouth getting more pronounced. "I was beginning to think you've developed a fetish for space battles, but you're not even paying attention to the screen."

John doesn't say anything. Rodney _knows_. Well, he doesn't know _what_ John is thinking, but he noticed John's cock and that alone makes John's brain go back into full fantasy mode.

"John?" Rodney asks, frowning.

John doesn't move a muscle. He knows if he will, it won't be to speak, it will be to pounce on Rodney, so he stays still.

Rodney sighs and shakes his head. "Maybe I should go."

Before he can get up, John snaps his hand around his wrist, gripping him _hard_.

They look at each other for a long moment.

Then John can't stand it any longer. He thinks about all the times when he thought he saw _something_ in Rodney's eyes during the last weeks. And maybe even before that.

There'll never be a better opportunity than right now. And ignoring that he wants this or telling himself that it will never happen just doesn't work. He's tried. He's tried for fucking six years.

Slowly he pulls Rodney's hand to his crotch. He's giving him every chance in the world to stop this. But Rodney lets it happen. His eyes widen a fraction when he realizes what John is doing, where this is going, but he doesn't pull back.

When John places Rodney's hand on his crotch, nothing happens for what feels like an eternity. Their gazes are locked, but John could never read that particular side of Rodney. He waits for Rodney to say or to do _something_.

Eventually, he does. He squeezes John's crotch.

And that's all that John needs.

He pulls Rodney's face into a deep kiss. He tears at his clothes to get to skin. He pushes him back into the couch until he's lying on top of Rodney, thrusting against him.

His fantasy is coming true.

He mouthes Rodney's neck below his ear and then whispers harshly, "I want to fuck you."

Beneath him, Rodney tenses.

John freezes. He thought that he and Rodney were on the same page here. Carefully he lifts his head to be able to look at him. Maybe Rodney just doesn't like to bottom. It happens. It's not a problem. John likes being fucked as much as fucking.

But when he pulls back and sees Rodney's face, he knows it's not just that.

He knows it before Rodney opens his mouth and stammers, "I've never... I mean I've exchanged blow jobs and I fucked a guy, but I never..."

He's never been fucked. And not just because he prefers to top. He's never been fucked because Rodney doesn't do that with guys, because he only screws around with guys. John can see it as clear as day: long caffeinated nights in the labs, sharing some heat in the lonely nights in Siberia.

Whatever Rodney thinks they're doing, they're definitely not on the same page. Hell, they're not even on the same continent.

John's been driving himself insane with this _thing_ for Rodney for the last six years. Whereas Rodney is apparently bored and/or horny enough that he's willing to screw around with John even though he's a _guy_.

John pulls back violently and gets up from the couch. He wants to punch something, but Rodney probably doesn't deserve it. It's not his fault that John is so fucked up. It's not his fault that John just can't seem to get over this stupid—

"Fuck!" John curses, dropping his gaze. Why can't he just take this? Rodney wouldn't mind fucking him. He certainly wouldn't mind a blow job. And then at least he'd know what Rodney tastes like. He'd know how it would feel to wrap his mouth around Rodney's cock. He'd know how Rodney sounds when he comes.

Rodney's lying on the couch, staring up at him. His hair is in disarray, shirt pushed up, the fly on his pants undone. He looks so fuckable that it's like a physical hurt in John's heart.

He looks away again. He can't do this. Not what Rodney wants. He can't just screw around with him. He can't do _casual_ with Rodney. He can't spread his legs for him and then wait for Rodney to find himself a new girlfriend. He can't.

Rodney gets up from the couch, but John doesn't dare look at him.

He doesn't think there's a way to get out of this with his dignity intact. But then, he didn't really have much dignity left in the first place.

Rodney reaches out, cups his face, and moves it until John meets his eyes.

God, he doesn't want Rodney's pity. He doesn't want anyone's pity. He'll take indifference over pity any damn day. Hell, he'd prefer contempt over it.

But Rodney forces him to look at him, to look into his eyes. What he sees isn't pity. John's not entirely sure _what_ he sees.

So Rodney leans in close to show him.

The first touch of their lips is tentative. It's almost accidental that their mouths meet, once, twice, again and again. They move a little closer, tilt their heads, and let the kisses linger. Longer, deeper. John opens up his mouth a fraction.

Rodney moves his hand into John's hair, sending a shiver down John's spine. John moves his arms around Rodney.

They stand and kiss like that, moving closer together, mouths opening up for each other.

John's forgotten everything else in the world. He just knows that he doesn't want to let go.

They kiss forever and then some more.

Until eventually they slow down and stop, foreheads against each other as they breathe in.

John slowly opens his eyes and after a long moment pulls back so that he can look at Rodney. He vaguely remembers that he had questions to ask, but they all slipped his mind. "Okay," he says, not actually remembering if Rodney ever asked him something, but it seems like the right answer anyway.

Rodney smiles at him. Then he takes John's hands and tugs on it, taking a step towards John's bedroom. He looks at John, waiting.

"Whatever you want," John says.

Rodney leads him into the bedroom, and when he pulls John down with him, John feels as calm as he hasn't in six years.

They might not always be speaking the same language, but they're not just on the same page, they are writing the same story.

 _Their_ story, and if it's a bit crazy John can live with that.


End file.
